We have never had a real tree. Since our artificial tree is rather full, I suggested that for this year we try to find a smaller live tree. Then I thought, wouldn't it be festive if we went out to a tree farm and chop down our own tree. I had visions of my manly husband chopping it down with an ax, wearing a plaid shirt with suspenders and big mountain man boots---who am I kidding, my husband does not wear plaid, but I do.
Tuesday, I called Kevin at work and suggested that he come home early. I had been researching Christmas tree farms in the Hampton Roads area and the one that I thought sounded perfect closed at 5:00 and I knew that we would never make it there if we waited for Kevin to come from work at the normal time.
In my research, I noted that our drive would be close to hour to get our tree farm, a price I was willing to pay for good old fashioned Christmas fun. I did not note that it was 1 mile from the North Carolina border. We drove and we drove. The sun was low in the sky when we pulled up and I wondered if they took the big trees inside at night. The owner, who was a very kind man, handed us a saw, no ax in sight, and said "I hope you find one..."
|Kevin is questioning my judgment or my sanity in this picture|
|Maggie's face says it all. "Really Mom, North Carolina?"|
|Here I am with my tree|
|And here is Kev pretending to cut it down for a picture|
When we finally arrived back in our neck of the woods we stopped in our local hardware store to buy a tree stand, and there in perfect bundle rows, were fraser firs for the same price that we paid for ours from North Carolina.